


Birthday Cards

by MaddieWrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Mother Hen Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieWrites/pseuds/MaddieWrites
Summary: What if Sammy got to grow up with a mom after all? Au in which Mary is dead, but Sam grows up with a mother anyways. Pretty much just a cute fluffy fic with birthday cards.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Basically what it says on the tin. I hope you guys like it! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments! I love feedback!

“Dean?” Sam asked, voice barely a whisper.  
“Yeah Sammy?” Dean smiled at his five year old brother.  
“When's mom coming home?” He rubbed two big, tired eyes.  
“Soon.” Always soon.  
“Where is she?”  
“At work.” Dean assured him.  
“But I want mommy. I've never even seen her.” He pouted.  
“Well you have daddy and me.”  
Sam thought about it. “Yeah...”  
“She'll be home soon.”  
“When?”  
“In the morning.”  
“Really?”  
“Of course.” Dean was always one to live in the moment. The only thing that mattered was making Sam happy /now/.   
“Just go to sleep Sammy. She'll be here tomorrow.”

 

“Dean?” A soft, timid voice asked from across the room.  
“Yeah Sammy?”  
“Will mommy be home for Christmas?”  
“Of course.” He lied.  
“She missed last Christmas.”  
“Well she'll be here this year.” Dean promised.  
“You're sure?”  
“'Course I'm sure.”  
Sammy nodded and lay back down. Seven was way to young for the truth. Maybe in a few years.

 

“Dean?”  
“Yeah Sammy?”  
“Don't call me Sammy. I'm double digits now.” He pouted.  
“That's right.”  
“Dean, when's mom coming home? She missed my birthday.”  
“She sent a card, didn't she?”  
“Yeah, but she always sends cards. When will she be here?” Sammy demanded.  
“Next year.”  
“Promise?”  
“I promise.” Dean tried to sound sure, confidant like their father.  
“But she keeps missing things!” He threw his card down in exasperation.  
“Sammy-. Sam, she'll be there, okay. Trust me?”  
“I trust you.” He sighed.  
“Good. Go to sleep buddy.”  
“Night Dean.”

 

“Dean?” Sam called softly.  
“Yeah Sammy?”  
“Mom missed Easter.”  
“Yeah, she did.” He sighed.  
“Where is she?”  
Dean hesitated. Eleven was too young. “At work.”  
“Still?”  
“She's very busy.”  
“I don't believe you.” Sam folded his arms over his chest.  
“Would I lie to you?”  
He thought about it for a moment. “No...”  
“She's at work Sammy.”  
“Okay.” He didn't sound sure.  
“Look, where else would she be?”  
“I don't know.” Sam admitted.  
“Exactly. There's nowhere but here and work. She's not here...”  
“So she's at work!” Sam got it after a moment.  
“Yeah! She'll be home soon, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
“Goodnight Sam, sweet dreams.”  
“Night Dean.”

 

“Dean?”  
“Yeah Sammy?”  
“I'm fourteen. Don't call me Sammy.”  
“Sorry, I forgot.”  
“It's okay. Is mom still at work?” He asked reluctantly.  
“Yes.”  
“Are you lying?” Sam examined his face carefully, looking for any sign of doubt.  
“No. I would never lie to you.”  
“You lied about the Easter Bunny.”  
“Everyone lies about the Easter Bunny! It was my job to make sure you had fun on Easter.”  
“You're sure?”  
“I'm sure. She'll be back for Thanksgiving. She'll be so proud of how well you're doing in school.” Dean tried to shift the topic a bit. Sam loved to talk about school.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, of course. Mom's a genius too.”  
“I'm not a genius.”  
“You've got the best grades in your class and you're taking twelfth grade English as a tenth grader! You're brilliant Sammy!”  
“Maybe...” He didn't sound convinced.  
“She'll be home soon, okay? I promise.”  
“Okay.”  
“Go to sleep.”

 

“Dean?”  
“Yeah Sammy?”  
“Where's mom really?”  
“At work.”  
“I'm fifteen now. I can take the truth. Did she... I mean is she, you know, gone?” Sam sounded like he didn't want to know the real answer, so how could Dean give it to him?  
“Oh Sammy, of course not! She's working. Didn't you get a birthday card from her?”  
“I think dad writes those.” He admitted.  
“Does dad care enough to write those?”  
“Well, no.”  
“Exactly. You're smart. Think about it logically. Where's mom?”  
Sam paused, debating. Dean held his breath. Would he figure it out, or did he want her alive so badly he'd keep believing the lies?  
“At work.” Sammy decided.  
“Exactly! knew you were smart.”  
“Thanks Dean.”  
“It's nothing.”  
“Goodnight.” He settled down for bed.  
“'Night Sammy.”  
“It's Sam.”  
“Sure, Sam.”

 

“Sammy?” Dean sighed.  
“Yeah Dean?”  
“I need to tell you something.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Well, you're sixteen now and you're old enough to drive and... Well I haven't been honest about something.”  
“Mom forgot to send a card?” Sam looked heartbroken. How could Dean break it to him when he looked like that?  
“No. It's, um... You know how I have some of dad's alcohol sometimes?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Well don't tell dad because technically I wasn't supposed to have it.”  
“Oh, dad won't care. Did mom send a card?”  
“I'll go check.” Dean fetched the card and gave it to Sam.  
“She never forgets.” He smiled.  
“Well she loves you.”

 

“Dean?”  
“Yeah Sammy?”  
“I was thinking about all those birthday cards from mom and it wasn't mom, was it? She was dead the whole time, so who sent them?”  
“I don't know.” Dean had never expected him to ask about that, even after he found out the truth.  
“It wasn't dad...”  
“Couldn't have been.”  
“Then who-? Did you give me all those cards?”  
“Yeah Sammy, that was me.” Dean admitted.  
“Is that what you were going to tell me when I was sixteen? I knew you didn't care about the alcohol!"  
“Yeah, you weren't ready.”  
“Dad thought I was.”  
“Dad's mean. I was waiting until you were eighteen.”  
“Now that I am eighteen, I'm old enough to say thank you.”  
“For what? The cards?”  
“Yes, the cards. And for lying to me, letting me grow up with a mom.”  
“Sam, she was dead the whole time.”  
“I'm talking about you Dean.”  
“Oh. You're welcome?”  
“Yeah. I um... Goodnight Dean.”  
“Night Sammy.”  
It's S-. Never mind.”


End file.
